I was summoned by their hum. Not by strangers, by familiar voices in crescendo.
Thick Summer heat, the mumbling of lawn machines, and cicadas in heat, a melody I admit to abandoning for a more sacred hymn.
They built an idol in sound. I felt wet for their bliss. Eyes prematurely soaked I dove in,
drifting for the most part. Time like most things, moved along and I found them, peaking. I caught their line, And tightened my ears around their syllable.
Softly saddled in myself, I grip their faint rhythms and angsty breathes.
Mornin rose, as did my spirits. Shorty rested in the silence, long and bound to a giggle. Decency found me warmly unbothered by insides jokes complete lost to me. The humor of it all escaped all but me, as breathe moved me to yearning for more of what got me hot.
Shorty rose, echoes of “real” flooded my walls, in tandem, we yearned, they cued and called out. Imagine me not lapping up every sound, the idea of me not gripping an earful, for now and later. Imagine me quenched by this fiction. Imagine I didn’t. Imagine as I did, hear their curves run into their hums.